


we'll take a cup of kindness yet

by thisparticularlight



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisparticularlight/pseuds/thisparticularlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Year's Eve skeleton-crew fluff for two of my favorite little sweethearts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll take a cup of kindness yet

**Author's Note:**

> Poem excerpt taken from Hearts, by Sharon Auberle, which you can (should!) read in its entirety [here](http://www.yourdailypoem.com/listpoem.jsp?poem_id=995).

_And didn’t we both expect perfection?_  
 _That your heart would always speak_  
 _when I needed it_  
 _and that mine would hear_  
 _ all of your unspoken words?  
- _ Hearts,  _Sharon Auberle_

+

 

The Enterprise is unsentimental, and Geordi likes that about her. She is constant - her core needs no less maintenance on New Year’s Eve than any other night of the year, and he likes that about her, too, likes that she doesn’t bow or bend to the calendar, or to the communiques piling up on any of their desks. There’s something about knowing that he’ll be called to serve regardless of time, place, space. Something about knowing that the captain, in his ready room, and the ensign, pinning on her pips nervously in the mirror for the first time, both look to the hum of the same engines to see what’s next.

Tonight the captain and the ensign are off, one because he’s earned the holiday after forty blessed years and the other because a few concessions early on are how people come to give forty years in the first place. New Year’s Eve on the Enterprise is about the middle, the people that Picard can trust enough to keep the ship running in his absence. The ship is orbiting Starbase 273 for cabin refits, and their crew is down to minimum operating staff.

Deep down in the heart of Engineering, that means Geordi and Data are the two ops officers on shift for the overnight. Geordi is leaning back in a chair with his feet up on the console and Data, having long since given up on scolding Geordi for such an improper posture, is sitting on the edge of a chair and holding a PADD that he’s forgotten about after four hours of looking across the center console at Geordi.

“You know, I gotta say, I kinda like the skeleton crew,” Geordi says. “It’s nice to work together again like this.”

“I have missed working with you as well,” Data agrees. He is certainly no expert in learning what it is to be human, but he has slowly begun to realize that the neutral tone that comes with what he was born into can often prove a saving grace. He has no idea how to tell Geordi everything he means, but he’s exceedingly skilled at knowing how to omit it.

He remembers everything, remembers when Geordi wore red and was always just right there, a tiny shift of his eyes to the right, but he’s never sure of what he can say out loud, not ever quite sure of what belongs inside, in the space that’s only for him. He sometimes regrets his tendency to err on the side of not saying enough, but trusts Geordi to say, eventually, whatever he cannot.

Now, as ever, their roles continue. “It’s not just working with you,” Geordi tells him. “It’s all the little things, too. We see each other off shift, which is great, but it’s - it’s the little conversations we’d have, and it’s taking the lift together off the bridge at the end of the day, and all of these little things that… that don’t matter, really,” he finishes, feeling silly, “except that I... miss them.”

“Then they matter greatly,” Data replies, as if there could be no other deduction.

The absence of outright affection from Data is, Geordi thinks, far and away made up for by the seriousness with which he asserts that Geordi matters, that he belongs. Geordi has spent thirty years trying to learn how to believe all of those things about himself that Data came along believing from the very first second, as if he was born with a subroutine defining Geordi La Forge as _deserving_.

“I do not have a great deal of experience with human relationships.” Data is frowning, concentrating. “But I have found that humans often talk about missing “the little things”, referring to, for example, the dissolution of a relationship, or the death of a loved one. Therefore it does not seem strange to me that you would feel the same about a significant change in our friendship.”

“That’s true,” Geordi agrees. “I just…” There’s so much he could say: _When you tell me my thoughts matter it makes me feel boundless; You’re the first person that’s ever understood me without me teaching them how; I’m sick of missing you - you’re right here_.

“What is it?” Data asks softly, and Geordi shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says, frowning a bit before he looks down at the chronometer. “Hey!”

“Yes?”

“Two minutes!” he announces, keying in a computer countdown and standing up to circle the console to stand behind Data.

“Two minutes… Geordi, our shift is not scheduled to end until 0300 hours.” Data looks puzzled.

“Two minutes until _midnight_! Until the new year!”

Data shakes his head. “I do not understand the fixation with a simple shift in a calendar that does not govern the Enterprise, and does not even extend to all of her crew.”

“And _I_ don’t understand your fixation on being a spoilsport,” Geordi teases, placing his hands on Data’s shoulders and so happy to be back where they belong, teasing each other as if nothing weighs on them. “The New Year is one of my favorite holidays.”

“Is it?”

“Oh, yes. Always has been.”

“Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s got a lot of lovely little traditions attached to it, and it’s absolutely covered in symbolism and metaphors, isn’t it? A blank slate, a chance to start over.”

“Not in any way of real significance,” Data points out, and Geordi tightens his grip on Data’s shoulders and laughs.

“You’re just determined not to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

“No more determined than _you_ seem to be to keep me from understanding.”

The warmth that floods Geordi’s body whenever Data attempts to tease another person means that, at least for Geordi, Data will never have any barbs. He allows himself to laugh at Data a little before clearing his throat. “Okay, fine, naysayer. What is it that you want to know?”

“Since I cannot seem to align with your preference for metaphor, maybe you could attempt to explain some of the traditions attached to the holiday,” Data suggests, just as the computer announces: “Thirty seconds to midnight.”

What happens next is a flurry of activity in Geordi’s brain, because goodness knows that when Geordi mentioned _a lot of lovely little traditions_ he was thinking, really very particularly, of one specific lovely little tradition, one that Data is unlikely to understand, and after it’s all said and done he considers resigning his commission because so much thinking, so much weighing of so many options in a purportedly lieutentant-commander-grade engineer should really yield more than:

“Well, there’s the new year’s kiss,” Geordi suggests, voice strangled as he wonders why the fuck he’s still touching Data, who sits up a little straighter but otherwise gives no indication that his stomach is about to fall through the floor, as Geordi’s well may.

“The new year’s kiss,” Data repeats, as if the world is not rocking on its axis, and Geordi nods helplessly.

“To… get the year started out right,” he explains weakly.

“Ten seconds,” the computer announces, and begins an individual countdown of each second. Somewhere around _six_ , Geordi can see the decision cross Data’s face as he stands up. Geordi’s hands slide off Data’s shoulders as the taller man rises to his full height to look down at him.

At _four_ , Data’s hands come up to rest on Geordi’s face. “This is what might be called a _little thing_ ,” he says, almost apologetically.

“Life is made up of little things,” Geordi replies breathlessly, as the computer’s crisp voice enunciates the word _zero_ and Data’s lips meet his.

Kissing Data is exactly the same as he’d expected, other than the fact that it appears to be actually happening to him. Data’s hands are firm on his face, and though their kiss is chaste and soft, Data gives it deftly, surely, the same way he’d given Geordi an assurance of _you are enough_ earlier. Geordi slips his hands around Data’s waist, holding onto the back of his uniform, just before Data ends the kiss.

When they separate, Data doesn’t take his hands away from Geordi’s face immediately. “Happy new year,” Geordi whispers, looking up at his friend and not having a damn clue what comes next.

Data’s hands drop to his sides. “Happy new year to you, too, my friend.” Geordi knows that he should drop his hands, too, but he’s too busy being fucking enchanted by the way that Data doesn’t ever really whisper, just drops his rich, perfect voice so low that Geordi needs to lean closer to hear him. _Good ploy_ , he thinks, dropping his head against Data’s chest.

For a few moments, they stand there, just like that, and Geordi thinks about everything that’s led them here, standing alone in Engineering one minute past midnight on what will surely wind up being the most important New Year’s Eve Geordi has ever experienced. Geordi’s mind floats abstractly up to Dr. Soong, who, for all of his many flaws, was a man who thought to program Data so that his chest rose and fell like any other man’s.

Geordi knows that when he lifts his head off Data’s chest, many things will happen. They will talk. Data will either understand, or he will not. They will slip back into reality, into routine. The routine will either alter, or it will not. There is so much at stake here, he thinks, and he is so dearly, desperately afraid of most of the myriad ways things could change, but he is also afraid of lifting his head and never feeling this again, never breathing in the uniquely clean, cool, fresh scent that is Data’s uniform, and hair, and skin. He wonders how long he can hold out.

“Geordi,” Data’s voice sounds above him, impossibly gentle.

“Data,” Geordi murmurs back, resisting the urge to nuzzle further into Data’s chest.

“Geordi.” Data tentatively dips his body back, forcing Geordi to look at him, and the plainness with which Data looks back is heartwrenching.

“I’m sorry,” Geordi begins, not knowing how else to start.

Data frowns. “For what?”

Millions of answers float through Geordi’s head, _for being willing to risk this friendship_ not last among them. “I don’t know,” he answers, reasoning that Data doesn’t have to know that what he means is “I can’t decide”.

Data smiles briefly. “I kissed you because I wanted to,” he says, the matter-of-factness in his voice soothing the anxiety knotting Geordi’s stomach. “And because I judged that you would be amenable to being kissed. And,” he adds, his smile growing, “because you are someone who holds tradition in the highest regard, and I wanted to help you celebrate.”

“Tradition is very important,” Geordi agrees, breathing a laugh at the very traditional notion of kissing an android at midnight on New Year’s Eve in an Engineering mainstation because the starship is running on skeleton crew while cabin refits occur.

“So,” Data continues, tracing Geordi’s arm with his fingertips. “You should not be sorry. If the event was agreeable, then nobody holds a responsibility to apologize. If the event was disagreeable to you, then I, as the initiator, am sorry.”

“It wasn’t disagreeable at all,” Geordi murmurs. “Just a… just a new year’s kiss between friends, really.”

Data frowns. “Yes.” Then he shakes his head, and asks, “Is this… is this something in which friends commonly engage?”

“Not really,” Geordi says, after a pause. “Well.” He considers. “Sometimes.”

He can feel Data above him, turning this information over in his mind over and over again as it gives him less-than-ideal results each time, and laughs affectionately into his hand before Data can even manage: “Geordi, I require you to be much more specific.”

“It depends on the friends,” Geordi responds, tightening his grip on the back of Data’s uniform. “And the friendship.”

“Then there is no… pre-defined parameter?”

“Not really, at least in my experience.”

“But there are pre-defined parameters specific to each friendship, are there not?” Data’s face, for each of the thousand times he’s disclaimed emotions, publicly or privately, looks as worried as any face Geordi’s ever seen. “I suppose, more directly, my concern is that this is not something in which you and I, as friends, commonly engage.”

“There are lots of reasons not to engage in something,” Geordi breathes. “It doesn’t help that I’ve spent the last little while so scared of you I couldn’t have done this if I wanted to. Which I do.”

“ _Scared of me_ ,” Data repeats, pulling away as horror sneaks across his face. “Geordi, you are not…”

“ _No_ , no no no,” Geordi assures. “I’m not afraid of you - hurting me, or anything, at least not intentionally. But I am afraid of being hurt, I guess.”

“By what?” Data tightens his grip on Geordi’s shoulders, and his frown intensifies so hard that Geordi has to close his eyes against it. “Geordi, what would hurt you?”

Geordi takes a breath and holds it in his chest. “This,” he says, gesturing between him and Data. “If… if I wanted it, and if you didn’t, but I said something anyway.”

“Then you… would want the same,” Data breathes, piecing everything together. “You would want this.”

“I sure would,” Geordi confirms, biting his lip and letting out the sigh as he looks away from Data. “And I suppose that’s where my apology comes in. I’m sorry I let you kiss me without making… without making it clear what I wanted.”

“It is a brave thing, to make clear what one wants,” Data says slowly. “I can understand you finding it difficult to be brave all at once.”

“Oh, Data.” Geordi reaches up to kiss him again, lightly but firmly. “You see me in the best light.”

“I see you the only way I know how,” Data responds honestly, and Geordi puts his head back down on Data’s chest.

“You said earlier that you might call that kiss a ‘little thing’,” Geordi says, suddenly remembering. “What did you mean by that?”

“Not little in comparison to anything else that has happened to me before,” Data says, circling his arms around Geordi. “Certainly not little in terms of importance. But something that I hope, someday, will be a ‘little thing’ in the context of a greater relationship filled with acts like it.”

Data is warm, and his fingers move up Geordi’s sides, across his arms and up the back of his neck to his temples, circling his ears and disappearing back into his hair, and it has been so long since Geordi’s been touched like this. It’s too much - Data’s fingertips searching all over his body in the wake of describing everything he’d like to build and create together, and none of it even feels real yet but he trusts Data more than anything in this universe, and so if Data is here, then this is happening. He lets out the smallest moan, more a mistake than anything else, but it seems to echo off the walls and hang between them once it’s out.

“I find… I find that I very much enjoy touching you,” Data says, and Geordi’s hips buck involuntarily.

“Data,” he says roughly, “I’m quickly finding that I really enjoy getting touched by you. Which means we have to stop,” he adds, laughing a bit. “At least for now.”

“But later,” Data says hopefully.

Geordi sighs. “This isn’t a good idea, Data. There’s so much we have to talk about, still. We have so much to figure out,” he tells him, trying to sound convincing and knowing that he sounds instead as if he needs to be convinced.

Data’s the most convincing person he’s ever met. He’s done for.

“Like what?” Data asks.

“Like… like whether we both even want to be in a relationship right now.”

“I have no general interest in being in a relationship,” Data responds, “but I am very interested in the idea of pursuing a relationship with _you_.”

Geordi stares at him, considering how many different ways he’s imagined hearing some form of those words from Data. How many times he’s told himself to drop it because that’s not even possible. _Is_ this possible? Is it possible that he’s not covered his own tracks as well as he’d thought, that Data has figured him out, somehow, and this is how he’s determined to reciprocate in the interest of being a good friend?

“Geordi,” Data says, looking at him plainly, honestly: really, the same way that Data looks at everyone except for the ribbon of hardness and wanting that underlies the way he’s begun to look at Geordi, lately. “I have thought about it enough to be sure that it is what I want.”

Data’s set down his mask first, and Geordi doesn’t know much about how his life is going to go but he does know that he’d stop at almost nothing to return any one of Data’s small gestures, let alone something so honest, so clear, so vulnerable. “I want it too,” Geordi says finally. “I really do.”

“Then it should be decided, should it not?” Data’s eyebrows come together almost imperceptibly, but Geordi could read this language of nuances and subtleties in his sleep. “There should not be anything more required to establish ourselves as a… couple?”

The hope with which Data looks at Geordi in this moment is just short of what it would take for Geordi to leap into his arms and insist that he never leave. “No, I suppose not,” he says, grinning. “I suppose it’s you and me, now.”

Data leans down to kiss him again. Geordi is torn between wanting desperately to know where Data learned to kiss like this and not ever wanting to ask. When Data pulls away, it’s just enough to leave a tiny slip of space between them. Their noses touch. Data’s breath tickles the edge of his mouth. This is unreal.

“You sure do like to kiss, don’t you?” Geordi asks, dazed. “I mean, I’m not complaining, but… wow. Wow. Is all I’m saying.”

“Kissing affords a unique opportunity to gather sensory information on a person, while simultaneously building intimacy.” Data looks at him meaningfully. “It is, in fact, one of my favorite activities.”

Geordi shivers. “I’m done for,” he murmurs, shaking his head.

“Elaborate,” Data asks, curiously.

“I just… really like to kiss, too, but I can’t really… bounce back like you can. You’re building complex sentences. I’m out of breath.” He giggles. “Even if we’re going to take it further - which, God, I’m not saying we are or aren’t, we don’t have to, but we can, but - shit, I don’t - I’m just saying that kissing is one of my favorite things, too. That’s all.”

“Noted,” Data says, staring at Geordi. “Or at least, I believe I have noted your point. To be honest, your statement was not very clear.”

Geordi laughs. “I suppose not. I only meant that we might want to restrict further kissing to more private locales, lest we start something we then feel inclined to finish.”

“Ah. I believe I understand now.”

“Right. So we should stop, because… because we can’t do anything here, okay?”

Data looks positively scandalized. “Geordi, _we are in main Engineering_ ,” he all but hisses. “I am aware of the numerous pieces of protocol that would prevent us from consummating any type of relationship here, not the least of which is Article C of an officer’s pledge, which I took in good faith, just as you did; additionally, even if this protocol did not preclude us from engaging in such behavior, I have approximately forty subroutines concerning judgment and decision-making that would lead me to conclude that-”

“Okay.” Geordi laughs a little, he can’t help it, this creature in front of him is so marvelous. “Okay. No doing it in Main Engineering. Got it.”

Data narrows his eyes. “I can understand humor,” he begins, “when it is well-crafted and reasoned. Based on this I would have to conclude that you’ve either just made a very obvious statement - with which I completely agree - or a very unfunny joke.”

Geordi laughs out loud at this, strong and clear, ringing into the ceiling. “Either. Both. I don’t know.” He rests a hand on his belly to stop the laughter. “My goodness, are we going to make the strangest team.”

“In spite of your questionable attempts at humor, and my questionable attempts at understanding it, we will make an excellent team,” Data corrects him, “unless past precedent fails us completely.”

The seriousness of his tone sends shivers down Geordi’s spine. “Do you have sex?” he asks, because he suddently needs very much to know, and it fleetingly, joyfully occurs to him that asking the question so directly means they have settled back into their old roles again.

“I am programmed in-”

“Not what you’re programmed in,” Geordi interrupts. “I know you can _do_ it. But do you like it?”

“I enjoy it very much, actually,” Data answers, “when my partner is somebody that I care about.” He raises his eyebrows. “I care about you very much, as I believe I have stated previously.”

“Well, if that isn’t the luckiest thing,” Geordi says softly, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“I should like to begin to show you how much,” Data tells him, in that way that he suspects is going to kill him someday, spun sugar over molten iron, “after our shift ends, if you would be amenable.”

“So god damn amenable,” Geordi breathes, and they exchange a smile.

The rest of their shift passes quickly - the same teasing jokes, light touches, and long glances as always - except that this time, everything is pointing somewhere.

At 0245, Geordi is climbing onto a chair to demonstrate to Data the proper form for a Silurian two-step when Sonya Gomez’s voice comes from behind him and he nearly falls off the chair with a little shout in surprise.

“Commander,” she says to Data with a barely concealed smile. “Lieutenant Commander,” she adds, turning to address Geordi as the smile finally fights its way onto her face.

“Gomez,” Geordi acknowledges. He’s always genuinely glad to see her, and the slight embarrassment tinging his voice makes him feel, somehow, that much closer to her. “You’re early.”

“I am. And so you’re off early. Consider it a New Year’s gift,” she replies, grinning, and pulls up Geordi’s shift log. “Quiet night, huh?”

“Yep.” Geordi smiles affectionately at her. “You sure you don’t mind taking these fifteen minutes?”

She shrugs. “The only real holiday gift any of us can give the other on a starship is time, and there’s nobody I’m happier to give it to than you two fine gentlemen.” She smiles at him. “Now, go get some sleep.”

“Gomez, you are a gift from the stars.” He claps her on the shoulder as he and Data turn to leave together. “Happy new year, Sonya.”

“Happy new year to you, too, Commander.” She waves. “You too, Commander Data.”

“It has been very promising so far,” Data tells her over his shoulder just before disappearing. “I hope that yours proves satisfying as well, Lieutenant Gomez.”

Outside Engineering, they’re quiet until they reach the turbolift and realize they haven’t discussed where to go. “My quarters?” Geordi asks.

“Yours or mine,” Data agrees. “Either is satisfactory.”

“You don’t… you don’t have a _bed_ ,” Geordi says, the corner of his mouth lifting up into a smile. “I’d say that puts a heavy mark in the column for my place.”

“Very well. Commander La Forge’s quarters,” Data announces, and the lift begins to move.

Geordi thinks that Data must be able to feel the sparks radiating from him, the anticipation, the tiny bit of nervousness streaking his mood but completely overshadowed by the wanting, the need spiralling up and growing straight through his mind like a live wire that he tries to quiet with deep, even breathing.

When they reach Geordi’s door, Data leads as they step through together. It is amazing, Geordi thinks, how his room looks the same, but different, just like everything else has felt this entire night, down to the very air that he's breathing.

“What now?” Geordi asks, somewhat anxiously, and Data looks up at him.

“I have always imagined it starting with kissing.”

Oh. “Fuck.” Unceremonious, because they’re finally done playing this chess game. Data’s moved his queen, and though Geordi’s almost sure that Data thinks he’s outmatched, he somehow can’t help but feel that he doesn’t have his bearings. “Okay.” He crosses the distance between them with two broad footsteps, the same six feet that have separated them on their shifts for years, the same six feet that have felt at times like a gulf and at times like a whisper. “Okay.” He takes Data’s face in his hands, wondering how in the world this is possible, how this is allowed.

“Does that mean-”

“Stop talking,” Geordi instructs gently, pushing a knee between Data’s thighs and leveraging up as he kisses Data, sloppy and open-mouthed. “Just for a second, okay?” There is so much need coursing through him that he’s doing everything he can to stop it all from bleeding through at once. He needs _time_. He needs to be able to kiss the edge off his nerves, he needs to kiss Data until he _knows_ this is real because the thought of going further without _knowing_ , deep in his bones, that Data is here, that he is here, that this is _real_ , is too much.

Geordi wonders whether Data likes the disorder inherent to kissing, whether he might find it delightfully human or overwhelmingly so. He wonders whether Data might not prefer a more restrained lover. He wonders whether Data would ever tell him if the love they made wasn’t sufficient - he figures he wouldn’t. He figures Data would die with a secret like that. He wonders whether he would ever ask. He realizes that he will, every time.

Geordi’s hands are everywhere, flying over Data’s body with the same grace, speed, and intention that they’ve shown through years of late nights and early mornings on the Enterprise - now, just as then, he feels the burn of insistence thrumming through his body too strongly to stop until he finds it. He doesn’t know what he’s searching for, but he’s always known how to look.

Data, on the other hand, has frozen - this sweet, gentle man who was born with the same insistence, into sharp, focused trying, but who has never, ever known how to look for what he wants most. There aren’t maps for this, Geordi realizes, so they’re going to make one together.

“Touch me,” Geordi murmurs, brushing his lips away from Data’s just long enough to encourage him that while their kiss is enough, more would be welcome. “If you… if you want. It would be okay. Touch me.”

“How?” Data asks, that same plain voice, searching for ways to please, and Geordi’s voice softens.

“However you want. It’s okay to treat it as an experiment. It’s okay with me.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. Play around a little, see what feels good, see what you - _oh_.” Data’s curious smile spreads across his face slowly as he presses the pads of his fingers into the back of Geordi’s thigh, picking up the edge of a thread and beginning to know where to start. “See, you’ve got it.”

Geordi tries to steel his heart against breaking over how much Data changes when given permission. He’s kicked into high gear now, running his hands over Geordi’s entire body, rhythmic and methodical. Geordi feels as if he’s being dissected - like he’s a garden, being dug up, roots thrust into the light, no stone left unturned, and it feels so good, so _good_ , until it’s too much.

“Slowly, slowly,” Geordi urges, gasping. “Slower than that. Data, oh, Data, we have so much time.”

“It… does not feel that way,” Data says, and his words are coming so slowly, and at such great effort, and Geordi knows this isn’t right.

“It’s hard,” he agrees, pulling down his leg, and Data moans a little at the loss of contact. “When you get… worked up, like this, it’s hard to remember because it seems like everything’s happening so fast, but I promise, we do have time, okay? Let’s take it.”

“I have… explained to you… that I do not perceive time non-linearly, as you do.” Data’s words are coming more and more harshly now, between gasps. “Time does not feel faster or slower depending on the activity.”

“I know. I didn’t mean that it’s about how time feels when it’s passing.” Geordi’s hands are sliding over the planes of Data’s back, his words dripping like honey into Data’s ears even as he presses his body more firmly into Data’s. “It’s about how much time we can give this. This isn’t a mission, Data. We’re not after efficiency.”

“We are not?”

“Oh, darlin’, _no_. We can take all night, if we want.” Geordi dips his fingertips into Data’s waistband, just over his hip. “And we _should_. We don’t have to do anything tonight if we don’t want to.”

Data shivers, hard and involuntary, before he seems to gather his wits. “Then what would be the purpose of continuing?”

“Because this is fun. I like you, and I like this,” Geordi whispers, tracing the shell of Data’s ear with his tongue, and Data shivers again. “Sex isn’t an all or nothing thing, Data. There’s lots of wonderful stops along the way. You’re an explorer.” Geordi grins against Data’s neck. “So we should explore.”

“I believe I am… beginning to see your point, Geordi.”

“Good.”

“I also believe that you were correct earlier.”

Geordi lifts his head to look at Data, searching his face for uncertainty or doubt. “Oh?”

“Yes. I am very, very interested in learning about what you referred to as… the stops along the way.” Data reaches his fingertips above the hem of Geordi’s tunic, and Geordi takes a deep breath.

“Is that… oh, God, Data, is that a blush?”

“You know that I was programmed to include modesty subroutines,” Data tells him with some difficulty, and Geordi groans.

“Jesus,” he mutters, bringing Data close to him.

+

“Okay, so that was really good.” Geordi smiles, falling back onto the pillows and stretching. “‘Fully functional’, indeed.”

“Androids cannot lie,” Data replies, eyes twinkling, and Geordi laughs as he rolls over to kiss Data, almost unable to believe that this is happening.

How many times, he wonders, over the course of this relationship is he going to catch himself staring at Data, following his every single movement? What a wonderful difference it makes to be _allowed_ \- it occurs to him that it is now practically _expected_ of him to catalog Data’s eyelashes, his fingernails, the way that his collarbone dips into his shoulder, the thousands of minutely unique tones of voice he uses, the creases of skin along his eyes from where he’s practiced smiling in the mirror.

“Is there something I can do for you?” Data asks softly, catching Geordi’s gaze, and Geordi blushes. Of course Data is already sitting up next to him as he’s curling up underneath blankets and thinking of sleeping soon.

“No, I just…” Geordi trails off, wondering how much to say.

“Something troubles you. What is it?” Data asks, so much aching kindness dripping out of his voice, and Geordi remembers how _brave_ Data was earlier, standing to kiss him as if he wasn’t risking everything, and decides in this moment to try and be a little more like Data.

“I have wanted you,” Geordi tells him, voice stretched thin and reedy, like a dancer walking a tightrope. “I’ve wanted _this_. I have. So long, my friend.”

“Why did you not say anything?” Data asks, genuinely surprised. “Did you worry that I would not be receptive?”

“No.” Geordi shakes his head. “No, nothing like that. I knew that even if you didn’t… want this, you could get past it.” He spoons up around Data’s hips. “It was me I was worried about.”

Data frowns, allowing himself to be pulled downward into lying down next to Geordi by the other man’s insistent tugging. “Geordi, it seems like a great deal of your emotional energy went into keeping this from me. Why did you not just tell me? Or redirect your affections?”

Geordi laughs incredulously. “Not that simple, my friend.”

Geordi, who finds it so much easier to be fierce, to kiss bruises into skin and push Data up against a wall, than to be gentle, to be quiet, to be still; Geordi, who finds it so much easier to be needed than to need; Geordi, who finds it so much easier to call out than to be silent, unless the listener is Data - Geordi, by all accounts, is the one who needs the map now.

“Help me understand,” Data murmurs, tracing his fingertips over Geordi’s jaw.

“I love you, I think,” Geordi tells him helplessly, and Data’s hands immediately lock onto his. “Which… doesn’t even mean anything here, I know that, I get that, and if you’d rather not say anything back, it’s okay, I just… humans don’t have very good ways sometimes of expressing feeling as overwhelmed as I do right now, okay?”

“Why would you telling me so not mean anything here?” Data’s head is tilted in curiosity, eyes locked onto Geordi as he waits for an answer.

“Well, because… because love is a feeling, and I know-”

“Love is a feeling,” Data confirms, “but I have been slowly hypothesizing that love is also a general state comprised of many small and large actions directed at another person. I cannot say whether I am in love with you - this is likely the overwhelmed feeling you described - but I can certainly tell you that I love you.”

“How?”

“When I remind you to bring a sweater to a holodeck simulation because it will get cold. When I bring you coffee on shift after noticing yours has gotten cooler than your preferred temperature. When I come to your quarters after a shift that I suspect has been difficult for you. These are all things that I would not do for any other crew member, but that I will always do for you.”

“The little things,” Geordi breathes, and his body feels too tight.

Data gives him a look then, that endlessly curious look, as if Geordi is filled with new ideas and new ways of looking at a universe far bigger than either of them. “I suppose so,” he says, finally, and Geordi squeezes his hand.

“Also, I find that your specific behavioral patterns are greatly missed in your absence - I must adjust my routine when yours dictates that we spend more time apart. Finally, I have realized that, while I have an acceptable parameter of adjustment with all crew members, my parameters are far wider for your comfort than for the comfort of anyone else. In light of all this, I can tell you with nearly one hundred percent certainty that I do love you. Very much, in fact, if you are willing to accept love as the sum of many small actions.”

Geordi can’t say anything, but reaches for Data’s hand in the darkness to try to tell him, somehow, using the electrical impulses that connect them, that this is the only kind of love he could ever care about again.

“Besides, even if I could not return it, your saying so would never be meaningless.” Data frowns. “How could you not understand that our friendship, and whatever it is currently becoming, represents the fullness of my efforts since I was activated?”

“Oh, shit,” Geordi breathes. “Data, I didn’t mean…” He shakes his head. “This isn’t far off from the fullness of my efforts, either, okay?” He can feel Data relax a little in his arms.

“That pleases me to hear,” Data says softly, and Geordi smiles.

“It’s nice to say it, too, actually.” Geordi slides the VISOR off his face, reaching over to place it on his bedside table. Data notes that, though the rest of Geordi’s room is somewhat cluttered, there is a perfect space carved out for the VISOR on the nightstand.

Data moves closer, adjusting to Geordi’s lack of sight by touching him as much as possible, making contact at every point of their bodies that he can, knowing that the least he could be for Geordi La Forge is an anchor. He kisses Geordi’s temple with a combination of precision and tenderness that is so very _Data_ that Geordi almost can’t process it. “I am looking forward to learning of all the dimensions in which we will… ‘make a good team’,” he tells him. “But you should sleep now. It is almost 0500 hours.”

“I’m on duty tomorrow, too,” Geordi agrees, yawning.

“I know.” Data smiles. “I am serving with you. It is the last shift before the full crew rejoins us.”

Geordi closes his eyes and makes a small snoring sound that Data files away for future comparison to states of almost-sleep. “I should probably be awake for that, then.”

“Indeed.” Data pulls Geordi’s blankets up over his body and smooths them over. “Are you comfortable?”

“Yes,” Geordi murmurs, sighing contentedly. “Stay?”

“Of course,” Data confirms, dropping a kiss onto Geordi’s shoulder.

“Just until I fall asleep.” Geordi turns onto his side, curling up around Data and activating a million processes, a million different ways for Data to take in all of the information attached to the seed from which any heart of Data’s will inevitably grow.

“As long as it takes,” Data says, stroking Geordi’s shoulder as his breathing becomes deep and even, “to begin the new year properly.”

“Done,” Geordi murmurs, but Data stays anyway. In the interest of being thorough. Just to make sure.


End file.
